Saturday, December 20, 2014

Walking Dead

I just returned from my OA meeting, which I've previously described as a lifeline to sanity, or at least partial sanity. At the meeting I spoke about Terry. I stopped reading about her, the book her dad wrote as he struggled to understand her alcoholism and resulting death. But I can't stop thinking about her.

I spoke about her at OA, or rather about me, about how I identify with her, how the life of an addict, whether the substance is food or alcohol or drugs, is not life. It is walking dead, the grip of compulsive thought and actions dragging the person (me) into walking purgatory.

Drama. Is this merely high drama of the season? I don't know.

What I crave at the moment is not a fix, not a solution, not even recovery. At this moment I crave understanding. I want my OA friends, my wasband, people who know and care about me to tell me they understand what I'm saying, understand what walking dead is.

+ _ + _ + _ + _ + _ + _ + _ + _ +

An hour later...

Thanks to Retta! Her comment on my previous post led me to Sean, who threw me a lifeline of understanding, here. Wow! I'm now reading Sean's posts from a year ago, interrupted for a few seconds to make note of how blessed by understanding I am!


Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Hard to Pray When I Feel Unworthy

I have to begin by reminding myself that this blog is for me, for my recovery, and not to entertain, enlighten, or help anybody else who happens to stop by.

I've been reading Terry, an account of an alcoholic girl/woman, written by her father after her death at age 45 by passing out, intoxicated, in the snow one freezing night. It's an agonizing read. Terry was charming in many ways, and she tried many, many times to kick the monkey off her back, with little success. It's agonizing because in so many ways I am like Terry, older and not dead yet, but like her, with brief periods of abstinence and long, long periods of abuse.

Right now almost all of my addictions are in full flare up. Alcohol is the one that so far I have avoided. Food. Oh how the food substances have been pouring down my throat, my body screaming to stop, my mind playing its usual tricks. Why do I always fall for it? Why do I always believe that tomorrow will be better? Why do I always think if I eat it all, every crumb on hand, that the next day I can stop?

Terry suffered from depression as well as alcoholism. That's a bit true for me too, although I've never sought counseling for it or medication. I don't quite believe in either, at least not for general depression and non-specific anxiety. Maybe one of the lies I tell myself is that my depression is seasonal, or occasional, or not so severe as to need help with it.

I still go to OA meetings, feeling more and more guilty, as I mouth nice words about "turning it over," and then come home to my cupboards and refrigerator. Yet going to OA meetings may be my one remaining link to sanity.

For months I've been saying I will listen again to my CDs of the Big Book. I don't do it. My clothes don't fit. I feel horrible. I'm not exercising... not at all.... not even the shortest walk.

Is it helping or hindering to keep reading about Terry? I don't know. I find it compelling on  one hand, the hard grip of the disease so totally unbreakable for her... At the same time, because I see myself shackled to her, it's pretty depressing.

With very brief periods of sticking to a food plan and abstinence, I've been on an ever-increasing spiral of relapse for 2 full years. The weight gain is horrible, yes. But even worse is the self-loathing, lying, binging, and laziness that comes along with compulsive overeating and other compulsive behaviors (like playing games on the computer all day).

It's so hard to pray when I feel unworthy.

Nasty spiral.